Beloved Dark Prince
by notmarge
Summary: Snapshot of "Servant of Two Masters". Alexander Grayson's dance at Bethlem Royal Hospital.


I do not own NBC's Dracula. I just wouldn't know what to do with it.

Beloved Dark Prince

* * *

Six skilled, elegantly dressed musicians begin to play a light, dancing waltz. I sit quietly, as instructed, and listen to the lovely music. It has been so long since I've heard anything so enchanting. It even begins to drown out the melancholy voices that I alone hear. It makes the birds that circle my head begin to sing once more.

It has been so eternally long since I have beheld naught but the dull whitewashed walls nor heard but the muted sounds of this desolate place. The slack, apathetic faces to which I have grown accustomed now hold tentatively animated expressions. The warm, jovial air softly glows with lit candles and I smell fresh spring flowers. The wolves are not here. Perhaps the music has lulled them to sleep or frightened them away.

"May I trouble you for this dance, mi' lady?"

Those are his exact words to me as he bows and holds out his right hand in polite invitation. His refined, gentleman's voice resonates quietly, his request sincere. He looks directly into my eyes as he speaks, a luxury I am rarely afforded in my confined existence.

This tall, slender man wears a dapper black tuxedo. His raven hair is combed neatly back from his high forehead and his goatee is groomed to perfection around his kind, smiling mouth.

As I place my trembling hand in his, he holds it gently, reverently. I smile in delight and immediately rise, unable to entirely believe my good fortune. He places his right hand lightly on my back to guide our dance and I carefully clasp his shoulder. Our hands meet at the proper angle.

We begin to dance a lively jig to the lilting beat of the music. Suddenly, I am no longer a crazy woman in a long white gown and white head cap. I am a beautiful, elegant lady dancing with the handsome prince at the spring ball.

This, I remember this. So long ago, before the wolves began to stalk me. So long ago, when there were only butterflies fluttering in halos around everyone's heads. Before I was old enough that I was no longer supposed to see the invisible creatures that no one else could. Before the wolves came. I remember this.

He dances with me, this beautifully dark-haired, pale man. And when he dances with me, the pretty birds flutter happily around us and the voices in my head sing in merriment. This special man, he does not look away in disgust. This beautiful man, he does not shy from my presence. He treats me as though I am a high-born lady. He smiles at me and I smile back at him, so very happy at last.

We dance all around the room. Each step of his is perfect and my steps match his, as though we were meant for each other. Others around us begin dancing, nurses, doctors, patients. They surely feel the joy exuding from us and our happy union.

The twinkle in his dark eyes and his genuinely tender smile he reserves only for me. Somewhere within him, I can sense a dark sickness that he fights even now with every fiber of his being. I almost catch a glimpse of the demons hiding deep within the well pools of his eyes. They do not scare me. I would never abandon this precious man, my prince.

On the contrary, I would boldly wrench those horrors out of him and hold them safely within myself so that he may live and be free. I would, if he would only ask. I love him for his resilience to never give in to his painful struggle. Surely we must be two of a kind. I with my demons and he with his.

Ah, how beautiful our bond. It is eternal.

My white slippered feet float over the golden hardwood floor. I have not felt so alive in many years. It is a glorious feeling. People chuckle and speak kindly to one another. There are no harsh words, no unkind movements. Streamers hang bright and gay from the ceiling above us. Nurses, doctors and patients clap their hands in rhythm to the merry beat as we dance past them.

A lovely young woman with curled dark hair wearing a powder blue dress glides past us. She dances with a gray haired man in white patient clothing. Her beatific aura brightens the warm, glowing room all the more. But my dancing partner has eyes only for me.

And in his eyes, past the kindness and lurking demons he struggles to keep at bay, I see my bright, smiling face reflected in the dark recesses of his soul. He twirls me lightly over and over again, our joined hands above our heads, his left hand held regally behind his back. I am light and graceful as an angel.

As our dance ends, he bows in a most gentlemanly manner to me and I curtsy most gracefully to him. The gathered audience begins to clap in appreciation of us and the lovely music. I murmur my most heartfelt appreciation to my devoted suitor and float on air back to my seat, breathless and absolutely, divinely happy.

After a moment of respite, I look for him again. He has vanished. Like an angel caught back up into the Heavens.

Or perhaps he was never there at all. Perhaps he has only been another vision in my head. Like the ones the doctors attempt to convince me aren't real.

Oh, but I do believe that he is real. He is too beautiful and tormented to be otherwise.

I shall remember him and our dance in all the days to come. I shall not allow the doctors steal the remembrance of them away with their medicines and treatments. I shall not allow the night wolves to scare them away from me and eat them up.

I shall remember, for that one dance, that I was once again, a lady. And he, he was my beloved dark Prince.

* * *

**The mental hospital dance scene is my favorite of all NBC's Dracula so far. And this what came out of me as soon as I finished watching it. Hope you've enjoyed it.**

**Everybody loves feedback, including me. Leave a review, if you like.**

**Thanks to AutumnAtMidnite, Amethyst M, kittka9, and deelove1 for your fantastic reviews and support! You're delightful!**


End file.
